Straight on 'till morning
by WindClansWish
Summary: Every nation has memories, buried deep within their hearts. And every nation, no matter what they say, will always need a friend at one point in their lives to comfort them. Every nation will always have a friend somewhere. Two worlds will, someday, become one family.


_**Put your faith in what you most believe in**_  
_**Two worlds, one family**_

* * *

It was another one of those days today; the sort of day that seems to drag on forever, milking each second for all it was worth and then some more. On these days, clocks seemingly went on strike, dragging each arm around agonisingly slowly, as though they enjoyed seeing your furious, disbelieving face as you looked up to see that, despite you having been there (perhaps at the dentist?) for seemingly _hours_, it had only been, according to it, only two or three minutes.

And if you were ridiculously unlucky (or cursed), these days would, more often than not, decide to work in collaboration with the weather in the worst way possible, serving up various helpings of rain, sleet, strong winds, thunderstorms and the occasional 1.67 pound hailstone to the head.

Today was not a good day.

Arthur Kirkland paced his study irritably, a cup tea in one hand (Earl Grey, naturally), the other hand thrust into the pocket of his dark green trousers. Pausing for a moment, the blonde nation glanced at the large grandfather clock situated besides the (authentic, antique and not electric) fireplace. His scowl deepened with the glance. According to the obviously biased and untrustworthy piece of furniture, there were still four bloody hours left in this accursed day. Four…wasn't that unlucky? Taking a sip of the now somewhat lukewarm beverage, the nation shook his head in despair. When had he ever been lucky anyway? Today was different though, today was worse. So much worse. Granted, he wasn't lying in bed like an invalid this year, but that wasn't much help. At least he would have been in bed.

The once-great nation pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the damp streets. A few figures passed by- a child with its parents. The child was in the middle, holding each parents hand as he bounced around, splashing delightedly in the puddles. A small smile graced Arthur's lips. He would never admit it, but he had always had a soft spot for children. Especially one…

Christ's sake.

Why did he keep doing this? Why couldn't he just act like any other person and just relax? Why did he keep doing this to himself?

He really hated birthdays.

Especially this one.

Damn it.

Suddenly noticing that his tea was growing cold, the Englishman took another sip from the willow patterned cup and decided to focus instead on the wooden bookshelf that took up the whole of one corner of the room. Green eyes scanned the assorted books.

Peter Pan? He'd read that hundreds of times (not that he'd admit that to Morag, what with Barrie being a Scot and all), and besides, he could have a proper chat with Jas. Hook whenever he felt like it.

Redwall? Narnia? Animal Farm? He wasn't in the mood for talking animals right now (Sorry, Mint)

He continued on, swiftly dismissing Jane Austen's works and skipping past the Harry Potter novels (for the same reason as Peter Pan). Artemis Fowl was also dismissed, along with The Hobbit.

He was getting a headache.

Settling on Charlie and the chocolate factory (well, he _was _in his own home, he could read a kid's book if he wanted to), the nation put down his unfinished and now freezing cold tea before sinking onto a sofa and sighing contentedly. Unfortunately for him however, he hadn't even gotten past the first line before the phone in the hallway rang.

He was tempted to ignore it. It could hardly be good, and he really wasn't in the mood. But despite him sitting stubbornly attempting to read, the person on the other end of the line was equally stubborn, and the phone continued to ring.

Resigning himself to another exchange about whether he was insured, ('the AA can offer you a great deal!'), he slowly made his way down the hallway and picked up the wretched thing.

And immediately wished it _had _been the AA.

"_Bonjour! Comment ça va?"_

"Speak English, frog."

"_Pourquoi?"_

"Hanging up in five, four-"

"Oh, all right, all right!" the Frenchman interjected hastily. "Just because _everyone _speaks English nowadays…"

Arthur smirked slightly.

"Anyway, I simply called to ask you how you were on this _delightful _day. Don't you just love it?"

The smirk was gone, replaced by an ugly sneer that the Frenchman was lucky not to be able to see. He continued on, blissfully unaware.

"Then again, you probably don't, seeing as it's a-oomph!"

There followed what seemed to be a small scuffle on the other side of the line. Arthur waited silently, mentally applauding whoever was making Francis cry in pain like that. After a short while, conversation resumed.

"Ahem." He seemed to be out of breath.

"Mm?"

"Disregard whatever I said before. Now what I meant to say was, really Arthur, I know you've got this long history and all, but you really have to stop hanging about in the past. It's ridiculous and besides, you don't look cute at all when you're like that do you-tcha! _Merde! _That hurt, woman! Arthur? Arthur?"

* * *

The Frenchman pulled the phone away from his ear and scowled at it in disbelief.

"He hung up on me? How could he? No one hangs up on Big brother France, ever!"

"Aam nae surprised. If it was me, Ah would'a hung up as suin as Ah heard yer voice, France!"

The blonde pouted as her looked at the speaker, a freckled woman about his height, with red hair that just fell past her shoulders. She wore a dark blue trench coat and a tartan skirt that stopped at her knees, and her feet were clad in polished black boots. Leaning forward on the couch she was sitting on, she looked at France with an expression of mild amusement and disgust.

"Ah told ye tae _talk _to him, no-"

"I did!"

"You know what ah mean! An' whit do ye do? Ye go an' rub it in his face, that's whit!" her accent grew more pronounced with every word she shot at the man, who was slowly shifting away as much as he could. "Ye jist couldnae resist, could ye?"

Francis, seating himself as far away from the irritable Scot as he could, scowled at her as he poured himself a glass of wine.

"Why didn't you do it then?" he asked her accusingly "In fact, it should have been you- you're his sister!"

Scotland snorted in derision and walked over to the blonde. He eyed her warily, relaxing when she leaned over and poured herself some of the remaining wine. She remained standing as she replied-

"Aam nae gonnae lower myself tae that level," she muttered, green eyes staring angrily at her glass. "Nae way…"

She caught France's eye as she looked up- her fellow nation way staring at her, one blonde eyebrow raised as he sipped his wine.

"_What?_" she demanded.

"You know, _Ma cheri_" he commented, slowly swirling the contents of his glass as he considered his next words. The redhead watched him suspiciously. "The Eurostar only takes around two hours to get to London from here…"

"Nae _way_," she repeated, but the blonde ignored her, swiftly rising and, moving behind her, pinning her arms to her sides. Despite being considerably stronger than him, Scotland let herself be marched to the entrance and stood quietly as he shoved an umbrella and some money into her gloved hands. Opening the door with a flourish, he smiled slightly and pulled her close.

"Have fun!" he smirked, despite the punch she dealt him, and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. She allowed him to kiss her for a few moments before pushing him away and walking out of the house.

"Ah hate ye sometimes France, ah really do…" she scowled when his only reply was to blow a kiss at her and wave, closing the door in her face. She summed up the situation in a single word.

"_Merde…_"

* * *

The personification of the United Kingdom sat in Trafalgar Square, hiding from the rain under his Union Jack umbrella. Even with the umbrellas best efforts however, his dirty blonde hair was still damp, thanks to a mixture of rain and spray from the fountain he was perched next to.

He had left the house as soon as he had hung up on France and spent several hours simply walking around the heart of his city, mingling with his valiant citizens who laughed in the face of adverse weather. He had walked past the array of Union Jacks in Regents Street, past the Disney Store in Bond Street, and now he sat in Trafalgar Square, watching the few people who passed through and the pigeons that pecked at his feet, hoping for a treat.

Arthur stared at the water, noticing the coins that lay at the bottom. Some people mad a wish as they threw them in, he knew. It was nonsense, obviously…but it wouldn't hurt to try, right? Before he could change his mind, he quickly tossed a few pence in and whispered a prayer under his breath.

"That's nice."

Arthur slowly looked over his shoulder. A girl stood behind him, leaning over slightly, following the pennies decent with her eyes. Her eyes were the same shade of green as his, and dark brown curls were escaping from the hood of her raincoat. She leaned back and smiled at the older nation, one wellie dabbing absently at a puddle.

"What did you wish for?"

"Who said I wished for anything?" Arthur snapped back, somewhat defensively. Wales did not seem to mind though; she continued to smile at her brother.

"I saw your mouth moving, you know. It's rather obvious."

"It's got nothing to do with you. Now go _away_, please."

"Don't fret brother," she tilted her head slightly. "Let's talk about something else then. The weather's nice today, isn't it?"

Her brother gave an absentminded grunt, making a mental note to check Wales' rainfall annual levels as soon as he got home. He propped himself back on his elbows and watched the distant lights of an airplane traverse the night sky. He had no idea what the time was, but he didn't want to know. He would wait until he heard the twelve chimes of Big Ben. Until then, he just wished he could be alone.

"I got another sheep yesterday. He's so small and fluffy…What should I call him? William, perhaps? Or Wallace?"

England twitched slightly. He was positive that had been some sort of a jab at him…a jab that brought several unwanted memories back…

* * *

"_This is my castle, right? And that's yours?"_

_A small child gestured to the two toy castles that stood on the table in turn. The one closest to him had a dark blue roof, the other a scarlet one. Toy soldiers were scattered around both forts, and a few strips of paper circling the castles symbolised the moats. He stood up on his stool in order to get a better view, wobbling slightly as he did so._

"_Careful."_

_A warm hand steadied him as he shook on his perch. The speaker was an older man, with thick eyebrows and messy blonde hair. He leant down and lifted the child up slightly; slipping a pillow underneath him for extra height, before placing him back down again. His young charge looked up at him with large, grateful blue eyes._

"_Thanks England!"_

_England smiled. Returning to his own seat behind his castle, he idly moved around some of his soldiers. America watched curiously._

"_What are you doing?"_

"_Putting them into their positions. Remember, the point of the game is not only to capture your opponent's castle, but to make sure yours isn't captured too."_

"_What do I do then?"_

"_Figure it out. You need some of your soldiers to fight me, but you need to have some left to guard your castle as well."_

_America paused for a moment and looked at his brother._

"_Fight you? I don't want to fight you, England! You're my brother!"_

_England laughed softly and moved closer to the young child, wrapping his arms around him. America flung his around his neck and hugged him tight. _

"_It's just a game Alfred. Don't worry. We aren't really fighting."_

"_Good," the other mumbled, his voice muffled by England's shirt. "I don't ever want to fight you."_

"_You won't," England promised him softly. "Come on; get up before I conquer your castle!"_

_America jumped up and ran back to his, grabbing one of his soldiers and brandishing it in his brother's direction._

"_That won't happen! You have to get through General…um…"_

"_Yes?" the green eyed nation's voice was amused. America pouted, desperately trying to come up with a name for his General._

"_I know! General William!"_

_England winced. He didn't do Williams…_

_America looked at him curiously._

"_Don't you like his name?"_

"_Ah…It's a long story Alfred…"_

"_What's the story about?" was the question. Alfred had climbed onto Arthur's lap and sat looking up at him. England sighed._

"_Let's just say it involves a certain Frenchman, a Scot, and some irritated Nations…"_

* * *

"Are you even listening to me?"

It was an abrupt end to his bitter-sweet memories. Wales, looking mildly irritated, nudged him with her foot as she huffed.

"You were ignoring me, weren't you, brother?"

The older nation did not reply. He returned his gaze to the cloudy sky and wondered at how wrong his promise had been. Wales looked at him softly before sitting beside him and leaning her head against his shoulder. The blonde looked down at her in surprise, unsure as to what to do. He was the United Kingdom; he didn't do these sentimental sorts of things! No touching, no hugging and certainly no kissing were allowed. Besides, it wasn't as though anyone actually _wanted _to get all close to him. Not even Wales, who was probably the only sibling who was actually capable of the occasional civilised conversation with him. But somehow, today, he didn't mind having her by his side.

"Ah…are ye two okay?"

The moment shattered, the two found Scotland staring at them with a mixture of surprise and worry. A half eaten croissant was in one hand, an umbrella in the other. England groaned inwardly. Why was it that no one would leave him alone? Why?

"We're fine," Wales was saying, looking at Scotland. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Um…well...ye ken…"

The red-head seemed uncomfortable, but still he paid no attention. Scotland looked at him in surprise. Fourth of July or not, she should have had several insults hurled at her by now, and if not, at least a question as to why she was even in his beloved capital. She gave Wales a questioning glance to which she replied by a small shrug and sigh. Despite herself, the eldest nation sat down, making sure she kept enough space between them. The action seemed to stir England; he sat up slightly and glanced at the elder nation briefly.

"Why are you here?"

It was almost a relief to hear the familiar, abrupt question. Scotland took a bite from her croissant, chewing slowly as she mulled over her answer.

"Ah was…just wonderin' how ye were…"

"Oh really? Since when have you been concerned about me? As a matter of fact, since when have either of you cared about how I feel?"

Neither female nation had an answer. Wales mumbled something briefly in her own language, but Scotland, after a brief pause, turned to fully face her brother. Green eyes met green, reflecting the centuries of hardship and wars between them. Neither had ever let the memories go. They were a part of them, a part of their people. But they had managed to move on. And now, whether they liked it or not, they were now one.

They both turned away together. Wales watched them, a soft smile on her lips as she watched the two. In the distance, they heard the majestic chimes of Big Ben signalling the start of a new day for them all. And, as he closed his eyes, England could see the fireworks exploding across the American skies.

_Happy birthday, America._

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading :D**

** This was originally intended as a USUK oneshot, or a collection of USUK oneshots. That changed after I watched the APH Multilanguage video 'Two Worlds'. I recommend it, it's amazing. So now, it's a collection of oneshots based aroung the nations of each language featured in the video. Also, this oneshot went from being romance based to simple platonic love :D The title is taken from Peter Pan: 'Second to the right and straight on 'till morning.'**

**Once again, thank you for reading, and, as always please review if you can~**

**Oh, and yes, I don't own Hetalia, but my takes on Wales and Scotland _are _mine. Thank you :)~**


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